


Dance

by MaddieWrites



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Suicidal Thoughts, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 10:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14018181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieWrites/pseuds/MaddieWrites
Summary: It was almost like a dance. He'd done this so many times he had all the steps memorised, knew the motions by heart. A well rehearsed routine just waiting for the recital. The knots were tied, the rope secured to the ceiling. Set up chair, balance precariously on the back of it, place rope around neck and tighten. Change mind. Loosen rope and carefully climb down, untie knots and put rope away.





	Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: This story is not recommend for those with depression or suicidal thoughts. Please be careful, okay?

It was almost like a dance. He'd done this so many times he had all the steps memorised, knew the motions by heart. A well rehearsed routine just waiting for the recital. The knots were tied, the rope secured to the ceiling. Set up chair, balance precariously on the back of it, place rope around neck and tighten. Change mind. Loosen rope and carefully climb down, untie knots and put rope away. He practiced every week, fingers moving with ease, gracefully tying, untying. He knew all the steps; balancing on the chair wasn't even hard anymore. Still, there was just one step he'd never quite managed to get, no matter how many times he tried. He knew when the concert came around, he'd have to preform that step too, yet he could never kick the chair out from under him. He didn't know what the point of all this practice was, if he never got the final step, but he tied the knots again, untied them again.  
Maybe he wanted someone to walk in, catch him and fix him, but he knew that wouldn't happen. He didn't really give people a lot to go on. It wasn't like he was actively trying to die in everyday life, but he wasn't really living either. He didn't eat as much, and only ate junk food. He'd given up on his work, he had enough money to happily retire. "Hiatus" was such a lovely word...  
Maybe that's what made him agree to it, the memory of what life had been like before. He wasn't sure. But when the stranger offered him a ride home, he got in the car. That was the last thread for his partner. They didn't want to stay if he wouldn't even tell them what was wrong. They hadn't been serious anyway. Maybe it would've been better if that stranger really had killed him, so he wouldn't have to practice so much. Why did he practice so much?  
He spent a lot of time wishing he was drunk but refusing to get drunk. He didn't want fake emotions, he just wanted the real ones back. So he practiced and practiced, danced and danced around. He never finished it, he never quite managed to preform. Maybe one day, he'd finally find someone to dance with, and these awful twirls he did alone would fade out. Maybe the loops and knots would disappear, and he wouldn't feel like he needed to rehearse so much. All he wanted was someone to dance with. He just wanted to dance.

**Author's Note:**

> If you need help, please reach out. You are not alone, and things can get better. 
> 
> Suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255


End file.
